


Apparitions of the Past

by fictumlibrary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Years 1-7, this story likely won't be snape or dumbledore friendly i'm afraid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictumlibrary/pseuds/fictumlibrary
Summary: Ella Creevey's life became bleak on May 2nd, 1998. Her eldest brother went to fight for what he believed in only to never come back. She knows full well that he would still be alive if he hadn't received that letter on his eleventh birthday, and where she once dreamed of going to Hogwarts with her brothers, she now loathes the Wizarding World and all it stands for.On August 10th, 1998, an owl drops a letter through her bedroom window with a familiar seal and her heart sinks into her stomach.Now heading to Hogwarts, she's determined not to get swept up in the magic her brothers always described to her. It's a death sentence. The world, however, doesn't always work in her favour.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Ella Creevey and the Lost Stone ; i.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first time properly writing for this fandom. this idea came to me and wouldn't leave me alone, so now i'm dropping it here! the main characters are my own, but the originals will definitely pop up from time to time.
> 
> also, to make it clear: if you are a supporter of jk rowling, i suggest you leave. this is not a place for terfs.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

“Hey, Ella. Here.”

Ella opens her eyes, frowning at Dennis. He sits opposite her in the train compartment, holding out several small boxes, all with a frog design on them. Her eyes flicker between them and his face.

“What are these?” she asks.

“Chocolate frogs,” he says, as though those two words are supposed to go together. “Just try some, they’re great.”

Ella cautiously takes the packets, not breaking eye contact with her brother once. “They’re not actual frogs, are they?”

Dennis laughs. “No, of course not.”

Lips set into a thin line, she opens the first box and is promptly met with a faceful of frog.

Screeching, she grabs the frog before it can jump from her face to her blonde hair, levelling a glare at Dennis, who isn’t bothering to hold back his laughter. The glare continues even as she ferociously bites the chocolate frog’s head off. It tastes good, but he doesn’t need to know that.

When his laughter dies down, Dennis says, “Check the box again. There should be a chocolate frog card inside.”

“It’s not going to _attack_ me, is it?”

“No, I promise.”

With one last suspicious glance at Dennis, she digs the card out. She doesn’t know what she expects to see, but the face of Harry Potter (albeit older than the photographs she’s seen — and she will not think about that right now, not a single thought about the person who took them) is not it. She turns it around and reads the small blurb, as if she doesn’t know who he is already.

“So, who did you get?”

“Harry Potter,” she says, not looking up.

This, of course, gets Dennis very excited. “Oh, is it the new one? I didn’t know those were in print already!”

“Considering that it talks about him defeating the most evil wizard in history for the second time, I’d say it is.”

“Lucky!”

She doesn’t see how collecting a random card is lucky, but doesn’t argue, setting the card beside her and opening the rest. Half an hour and many chocolate frogs later, she’s gathered quite the collection. She’ll probably give them away by the end of the week.

The compartment door opens and a blonde girl steps in, a bright smile on her face. She’s familiar somehow, and Ella thinks she’s seen a photograph or two of her, usually accompanied by Dennis and their friends. “Dennis! There you are. I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”

“I wasn’t exactly hiding,” Dennis says.

“I know, but I didn’t have time to look for you since I was looking after my brother.”

“Where is he, anyway?”

“He made a friend on the train, so I left him be for now.”

“Maybe I should send Ella to them, then. Get her to make some friends.”

Ella crosses her arms, making a point of looking away and staring out the train window. Despite the situation she’s in, the sight of rolling hills as they chug through the countryside is comforting. If only she could open the window, jump out, and fly away.

She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to be spoken to, yet Dennis’ friend either doesn’t notice or ignores her wishes completely. “Are you excited about coming to Hogwarts, Ella?”

When Ella turns her head to look at her, she catches a glimpse of Dennis’ expression, his eyes wide and hesitant. He knows just as well as she does that isn’t the question to ask her right now.

“No,” she says. “Why would I be excited about living in the place my brother died in for seven years?”

The girl’s smile falters and she sneaks a glance at Dennis, who is apologetic when he returns it. “R-Right, of course, um… I’ll go check up on my brother now, okay? I’ll see you later, Dennis.”

The compartment door shuts behind her as she leaves, and Ella prepares herself for the scolding when Dennis turns to her with a frown. He doesn’t look particularly fearsome, more like a disgruntled puppy, but it isn’t the first time she’s been on the receiving end of it in the last few weeks.

“Look, Ella, I know how you feel,” Dennis starts, and dread pools in Ella’s stomach. She hates it when he does this, when he tries to relate to her (because he does, because she’s not the only one who lost a brother), because it makes her feel terrible. “But that doesn’t mean you can be rude to my friends. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“I’ll behave how I want,” Ella says, and this isn’t the first time she’s said it. She just didn’t think she’d have to defend herself to Dennis. Doing so to her father over the summer was bad enough. “I don’t even know who that person was.”

“Her name is Evangeline and she’s one of my best friends,” Dennis says, and while the name is familiar to Ella, what she said still stands. She doesn’t owe this girl anything.

When she doesn’t respond, Dennis sighs and says, “Come on, we should change into our robes.”

* * *

“First years, over here!”

The gruff voice is loud over the crowd, but not unfriendly, and Ella stands on her tip-toes in order to find the source. Being so young, most of the other students are taller than her. It isn’t hard to find the person calling her over, not when he’s taller than everyone else around him, a lantern in his hand and shaggy hair on both his head and face.

“That’s Hagrid,” Dennis says, ushering her forward. “Don’t worry, he’s a gentle giant. Literally. He’ll take you to the boats.”

“The boats?” she asks, but Dennis only gives her a smile before heading in another direction.

With a huff, she approaches Hagrid and finds herself standing in the middle of a crowd of first years. She does her best not to stare, but she can’t help it, searching for anything unmistakably weird about them. No matter how many times she’s been assured that wizards look like normal humans, she hasn’t quite believed it.

“Alright, that everyone?” No one answers, but a few people look around. No other first years are coming. “Alright, then. Follow me. To the boats!”

The boats are bigger than Ella expected, though this pleasant surprise comes with the sour realization that she will have to share with several other students. She climbs into the one nearest to her, behind a set of brunette twin boys and a girl who’s folded in on herself, clutching a book in her hands. With the twins already in the middle of a conversation and the girl not even daring to look up, she assumes herself to be free from meaningless conversation.

They set onto the water and Ella is about to let her hand skim the top of it when Hagrid calls out behind them, “Mind your limbs, by the way! You don’t want the giant squid to get ya.”

She quickly retracts her hand.

She told herself once she’d received her Hogwarts letter that she wouldn’t be drawn into this new world, that she wouldn’t be taken in like her brothers, that she would keep a clear head. This all goes to hell once she sees the castle.

It looms before them, but rather than finding it intimidating, Ella finds it beautiful. There is something dazzling about it, the light hypnotizing. She can’t look away. Dennis told her the castle was big, but she’d thought he’d been exaggerating when telling her just how much. Perhaps there is some plausibility to her brothers’ grand stories after all.

They dock at a boathouse that sits lower than the rest of the school grounds. Hagrid abandons his lantern in favour of the boathouse’s lighting and leads them upstairs, presumably towards the castle interior. Ella runs her hand across the stone wall, stopping when she passes an empty portrait. She squints at the namecard.

‘ _Severus Snape_ ’.

A shove forces her to keep moving before she can inspect further and ask why her brothers’ mean potions professor has an empty frame named after him.

They head up a flight of stairs, then another flight of stairs, and another, until they come face to face with a woman wearing a long dress and a witch’s hat. Her posture is straight and her lips pressed together, but she smiles briefly at Hagrid as he drops the children off and disappears behind a set of double doors.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” the woman says, her smile for the students this time. “I am Headmistress McGonagall. Behind me are the doors to the great hall where the rest of the students are, but before you can join them, you must be sorted into your houses — Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.”

One of the first years snorts at the last name and McGonagall narrows her eyes at them. It’s a small gesture, but it’s effective, and the student is immediately silent.

“Your house is similar to a family,” McGonagall continues, as though she wasn’t rudely interrupted. “You earn points for your house when you achieve, and you lose points for your house when you misbehave. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup. Now, the sorting will begin momentarily. Please wait while I ensure everyone is ready for you.”

McGonagall slips through the same double doors as Hagrid, leaving the first years to their own devices. People begin talking amongst themselves, all of their words and sentences blending together, and Ella attempts to tune them out, leaning on the staircase railing and gazing at the portraits lining the walls.

Her gaze falls to the floor beyond the staircase. Is this where her brother died?

Before she can entertain that thought any longer, McGonagall reappears, and with a firm nod, says, “We’re ready for you.”

The double doors open at the same time without anybody touching them, and Ella keeps her head down as the other students all stare in their direction. A poke at her shoulder almost makes her jump, but Dennis’ cheeky expression calms her down, though she still swats his hand away as she walks by. No one else bothers her on her way to the front of the room.

When all of the first years are standing before what Ella can only assume is the infamous sorting hat, she expects McGonagall to say something else. What she doesn’t expect is for the hat to start singing.

_“Oh, I’m torn and I’m battered,_  
_quite frankly, I’m knackered,_  
_but I’ve got a job,_  
_before you stuff your gob,_  
_so listen to me real well!”_

Ella looks back at Dennis, who laughs silently at her expression.

The song continues for several stanzas before the hat belts out one final note, something about his nonexistent toenails. Ella doesn’t know. She tuned him out two verses in.

McGonagall stands before them again, this time with a scroll of parchment in her hand. “When I call your name, come take a seat on this stool here and I’ll place the sorting hat on your head. When your house is called, head to the correct table.” She clears her throat. “Willow Astarac!”

A girl with brown skin and dark curls makes a beeline for the stool and sits on it, gaze flickering upwards as McGonagall sits the hat on her head. The hat is, miraculously, silent, but a myriad of expressions cross her face until the house shouts loud enough for the entire castle to hear.

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

With a smile, Willow jumps off the stool and is taken in by the overjoyed Hufflepuff table with a pat on the back.

“Theresa Burke!”

Another girl, this one long brown hair and cat-like eyes, sits herself on the stool. It isn’t long before the hat comes to a decision.

“SLYTHERIN!”

The applause Theresa receives is nothing compared to Willow’s, and when Ella glances around the room, she sees a few students from other houses throwing dirty looks at the Slytherin table. Theresa either doesn’t notice or isn’t bothered, joining her housemates without looking back.

“Aurelia Carrow!”

Just as Ella is thinking that she could very well be next on the list and that she should prepare herself, the room becomes silent. It isn’t the same silence as with the previous two sortings, full of anticipation, but something uncomfortable and stifling. What is everyone’s problem?

The subdued girl from the boat trip cautiously steps forward, her head down. Someone behind Ella whispers, “Slytherin, no doubt.”

But the hat sounds incredibly confident when it yells, “RAVENCLAW!” not thirty seconds later.

Aurelia is quick on her feet, head still down as she rushes to the Ravenclaw table, many of whom are only clapping half-heartedly. She sits a decent distance away from everyone else and doesn’t look at any of them.

Seriously, what is everyone’s problem?

“Ella Creevey!”

A knot ties itself in Ella’s stomach, but she ignores it as she steps forward. Without realizing, her eyes search for Dennis’ in the crowd, and when she finds them, he gives her a thumbs up. She takes a deep breath as the hat is placed on her head.

_‘So, what have we got here, aye?’_

_‘Oh, so you talk to me in my head? Wonderful.’_

_‘Hey, I need to know what’s going on in here so I know where to put you.’_

_‘Alright, have at me, then. Do your worst.’_

_‘Hmm, bold, I like it.’_ The hat hums. _‘Courageous, but also a bit of stupidity. No survival instinct whatsoever.’_

‘Excuse _me?’_

_‘Better make it—’_

“—GRYFFINDOR!”

The word echoes throughout the great hall and the hat is plucked from Ella’s head. She’s ready to grab it back and throttle it for calling her stupid, but is distracted by the grin on Dennis’ face, as well as his ridiculously overenthusiastic clapping. She rolls her eyes as he makes a spot for her beside him.

The sorting continues, a pattern emerging. People are happy until a Slytherin is sorted, and people suddenly treat these green-tied eleven year olds as something they should forget or something that’s offended them in some way. Some students’ names are more than enough for people to look either uncomfortable or downright furious.

Marius Gold is the next first year to be sorted into Gryffindor, and he takes a seat across from Ella. Yeoreum Kim sits beside him, and Torian Shafiq in front of her, and so on and so forth until the end of the table begins to fill out.

By the time the last two students, the twins from the boat, are being sorted, Ella’s stomach is rumbling. She wants nothing more than to eat and she taps her foot impatiently as the second last name is called out.

“Damien Worth!”

Damien all but runs up to the stool, sitting with his back completely straight as the hat is placed upon him. It doesn’t take long for the hat to make up its mind.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Damien barely waits for McGonagall to take the sorting hat, zooming towards the cheering Gryffindor table with a bright smile. He sits at the end of the table and crosses his fingers.

“Lucien Worth!”

Lucien is the splitting image of his brother, at least physically. Both have curly brown hair and skinny arms and legs. It’s the demeanour that makes them different. Where Damien was barely able to sit still, eager to be here and to be sorted, Lucien is more cautious, less expressive.

So really, it’s no surprise when the hat yells, “SLYTHERIN!”

It’s clearly a surprise to Damien, however, whose mouth drops open in shock, eyes following his brother as he moves to the Slytherin table. The shock becomes a frown, then a deeper frown, and soon Damien is glaring at the Slytherin table as though it gave him a splinter.

“Yikes,” she mutters.

McGonagall steps forward and clears her throat. Everyone goes silent, a different sort of anticipation in the air this time, and Ella grips her robes.

“I know you’re all tired and hungry from your journey, so I won’t keep you waiting long,” McGonagall says. “However, I would like to say a few things. The first is that I am so incredibly glad to see your faces, new and old. The past twelve months, and even longer than that, have been terrible to us all. But we have come out victorious. A new era has settled onto Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to which I welcome you all. That said, I want to remember the sacrifices made for the sake of the safety we find ourselves in today. Upon the reconstruction of Hogwarts, a memorial wall has been created adjacent to the main staircase that you may visit when you wish.

“The second thing I would like to say is that there will be many seventh years from last year who will be in and out of the castle as they do work to complete their N.E.W.T.s as they were unable to last year. Do not be alarmed if you see them wandering the halls or the library.

“And thirdly, a reminder for our students and a rule for our first years. The forest on the outskirts of the school grounds is forbidden for your safety. If any first years have questions, do not hesitate to ask myself or your prefects.

“Let us eat!”

McGonagall sits down, but Ella barely pays her any mind, gobsmacked by the food that appears before them. Everything smells heavenly and she doesn’t know where to begin. Hogwarts is making it very difficult for her to remember that she’s supposed to hate it here.

Dennis nudges her. “C’mon, eat up.”

He doesn’t need to tell her twice. She loads her plate with as many things she can reach and immediately digs in. She’s halfway into her first slice of pie when first year conversation starts around her.

“When do you think we get to fly?” Marius Gold asks, staring longingly out the window.

“Soon! Please be soon,” Yeoreum says, almost begging, though Ella can’t tell who to.

Torian Shafiq laughs. “I think we have to wait a few weeks before we get our flying lesson.”

Yeoreum makes a face. Some syrup from her treacle tart has made its way to her nose. “I don’t need a flying _lesson_ , I already know how to fly.”

The conversation turns to Quidditch quite quickly after that, and Ella tunes them out. She doesn’t know anything about the game, none of her brothers’ explanations making much sense to her, and she doesn’t know any specific teams. She focuses on her plate and continues to eat.

It’s a few minutes later that Dennis nudges her again and leans over, keeping his voice low as he says, “You alright? You can talk to them, you know.”

He nods towards the other first year Gryffindors. Yeoreum is telling a story with wild arm gestures, leaving no room for interruption. She’s an outsider looking in.

As she should be. There is nothing to be gained from getting too involved with this world.

“I know,” she says. “I just don’t want to.”

She ignores Dennis’ worried look and is grateful that he doesn’t say anything else, talking to some of his own friends instead. She eats in silence. Just because she isn’t supposed to grow attached to the wizarding world doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate good food.

In the end, she eats her way through her food while taking turns listening to her brother’s conversations and the first year conversations, though she never joins in, and she always keeps her body angled towards Dennis so her fellow first years don’t speak to her directly. Both the food and plates disappear fifteen minutes after she’s finished her food, and she blinks, but isn’t as surprised as when the food first appeared.

“This ends the night’s feasts. Please head up to your dormitories. First years, follow your prefects to your common room,” McGonagall says.

Students begin to rise and Ella follows suit. The first prefect she sees waving at them is Evangeline, and she ducks around older students to get to her, stopping right in front of her without another word. To her surprise, Evangeline smiles at her.

“Hi, Ella,” she says, the incident on the train either forgotten or forgiven.

Before Ella can response with a brief greeting of her own, the rest of the first years arrive, and Evangeline addresses them all at once.

“Alright, it can be easy to get lost in the castle, so pay attention to where I’m taking you.”

They are forced into two lines when climbing the more narrow staircases, and there are plenty of them. Ella loses count of how many floors they leave behind as they continue going up and up and up, and when she looks down, the criss-cross of staircases reminds her of a scene from Alice in Wonderland.

They eventually stop in front of a large portrait. A lady in a toga and berries in her hair stands front and centre and she waves when the first years look at her.

“This is the Fat Lady,” Evangeline says, and Ella raises an eyebrow at the name. “To get into the common room, you have to know the password, and the password will reset from time to time, though we’ll inform you if the password changes. Right now, the password is Fawkes.”

The Fat Lady giggles and the painting swings back, revealing an entryway. Evangeline gestures to it.

“After you,” she says.

The students all file in. The room is adorned in red and gold, tapestries and carpets and fluffy pillows strewn around the room. A fireplace sits in the side of the room, the fire going strong despite the tower’s inhabitants just arriving. Magic’s doing, most likely.

“Your dormitories are upstairs, just follow the signs on the doors so you know where you’re going,” Evangeline says. “Your luggage is waiting in your rooms for you. Come see me if you need anything!”

A few students stay to ask questions, but Ella doesn’t bother. She heads straight upstairs and, after identifying the correct door, throws it open. Her bed has already been picked for her, it seems, her trunk sitting at the end of the bed in one of the far corners, a window overlooking it. All things considered, she could have done worse. The only thing missing from the picture is her cat, Jinxie, but that’s hardly anything to worry about. Jinxie is an explorer.

She approaches her trunk and opens it, but stops short of unpacking. Unpacking indicates staying. She doesn’t want to stay, especially not when she’s alone and wondering where Colin stood in these dormitories, in the common room, where he went to class, which halls he passed by and who he spoke to. His classmates are in their final year, after all. Most of them are still here, even if he isn’t.

It isn’t fair.

Dennis would be upset if she leaves, however, and that is something she won’t stand for. (And if she doesn’t want to leave him alone in this black hole of a magic world in case she never sees him again, no one has to know.)

She does eventually unpack, starting with her pyjamas and toiletries. She’s changed and is brushing her teeth in the ensuite when she hears the door open. Whoever it is must be in a good mood if the happy humming is any indication, and when she’s rinsed her mouth out and returned to the room, she isn’t surprised to see Yeoreum organizing her things.

Her intention is to return to her bed without engaging in conversation with anyone else, but Yeoreum has other plans, turning to her with a smile when she’s halfway across the room and saying, “Hey! You’re Ella, right? Ella Creevey?”

Back turned to Yeoreum, Ella closes her eyes. “Yep. That’s me.”

“I’m Yeoreum! It’s really nice to meet you, especially because your brother, the oldest one? He—”

“—I’m really tired, I’m going to bed.”

Ella doesn’t give Yeoreum a chance to respond, jumping onto her bed and closing the curtains. At least Hogwarts allows their students to have some privacy. It’s useful for isolating herself, in any case.

“Oh,” Ella hears Yeoreum say from beyond the curtain, voice softer than before, “Okay. Goodnight!”

Ella doesn’t reply, burrowing herself further beneath her covers, pillow clutched to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed it! i have the first three chapters done and am currently working on the fourth, so i'll post the second when i make a bit more headway. in the meantime, you can contact me at my oc/writing tumblr @fictumlibrary!


	2. ella creevey and the lost stone ; ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ella adjusts to her new classes and meets a few familiar faces along the way.

Ella wakes up to a paw gently batting her face. This is by no means a strange occurrence, but she opens her eyes anyway, blinking sleep so her vision isn’t so blurry.

Jinxie stares at her, nose twitching, paw still resting on her cheek. Green eyes stare into her own blue ones, several questions being asked at once: _Are you okay? Do you want to get up yet? Who are these people in the room with us? When are you going to feed me?_

Ella groans, running her hand over Jinxie’s black fur once before sitting up. “Alright, alright, I’ll get you some food. And you don’t need to worry about me, okay?”

Jinxie meows once, slowly but firmly. Perhaps it’s ridiculous of her to claim to understand her cat so thoroughly, but Jinxie truly is her best friend and has been for years. How could she not understand her dearest friend?

Slipping out from under the covers, Ella keeps the curtain around her bed drawn as she changes into her uniform, pausing only when picking up her Gryffindor tie. The colours are more pronounced in the morning daylight streaming in through the window, a bright spot amongst the black, white, and grey of the rest of her clothes. She supposes that’s the point. It’s bold and undeniable proof that she’s a Gryffindor.

Colin would be proud.

He’d always been so sure she was a witch as well, even when she was young. It’s why he’d bought Jinxie for her the year Dennis went off to Hogwarts, leaving her all alone at home with her parents, unable to follow her brothers into the world of magic for the time being.

_“He’ll be your magical companion!”_ Colin had said when placing the tiny black kitten in her hands. _“We might not be here, but she will be! She’ll look after you until you get your Hogwarts letter and can come with us!”_

She’d been so excited at the time. Seven years old and ready to dive headfirst into a world she didn’t even know if she belonged in.

When she snaps out of her thoughts, refusing to venture down memory lane any further, she’s creasing the tie in her clenched fist. She quickly smooths it out and puts it on without any further fuss.

The dorm is still asleep when she finally opens the curtains, and she tip-toes around to ensure Yeoreum doesn’t wake up as she gets herself ready. She remains dead to the world, but she only lets herself breathe when the door is closed and she’s down the hall.

There are a few people milling about the common room, mostly older students, and when Ella looks more closely, she thinks she sees bags beneath most of their eyes. Her mind traitorously wonders whether any of them are from her brother’s year, survivors when he was not, but quickly squashes the thought down and rushes out of the room before she can dwell on it.

Once outside the common room, she’s faced with a new problem: navigating herself through the castle.

They took many, _many_ flights of stairs on their way up, and so the way to go should be down. She says as much to Jinxie as she starts down the first staircase. Jinxie follows behind dutifully, though whether that’s because Ella is her companion or because she wants food is a mystery.

Going down the stairs is easier than going up, but both trips are going to give her plenty of exercise if she’s expected to do them every day. She’s lucky she’s young; she can only imagine what the older professors have to go through while traversing the school. Then again, they’re probably used to it by now.

The last set of stairs drop her off at what appears to be a main hall, if a castle this big even has one of those. She turns around to gather her bearings and stops in her tracks.

There in front of her is a wall covered in golden plaques, names all listed side by side. The memorial wall. Something stirs in her gut, and though she knows it will only upset her, she approaches it anyway, her eyes already searching for a familiar name.

She does find it, of course. Up high, too tall for her to reach, in engraved letters: ‘ _Colin Creevey, May 19th 1981 — May 2nd 1998_ ’. Next to the name is a small hole, and looking at the other plaques, she realizes it’s for flowers. A gift for the deceased.

She sighs. “You don’t happen to have a flower, do you, Jinxie?”

Jinxie meows, blinking at her.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“You need a flower?”

The voice catches her off-guard, and she jumps, turning around. Jinxie sits in front of her with her back straight, staring at the stranger. Ella doubts he’s a threat. He seems friendly enough, at least. She doubts he’s a student as he’s wearing normal clothing, but he appears too young to be a professor, and she assumes that this is one of the returning alumni who had their studies interrupted. He holds a box of plants close to his chest.

Hesitantly, she nods.

He digs through his box, then picks something she can’t see until he holds it out to her. It’s a white flower, unassuming with a black stem, though she’s cautious when she takes it. Just holding it is enough for her to sense that it isn’t a regular flower.

“It’s the flower from a Moly plant. They counteract enchantments if you eat them, but you’ll learn all about that in Herbology,” he says.

She nods again and turns back to the memorial wall, only to remember she can’t reach. “Um…”

“Do you want me to get it for you?” the boy asks, and Ella hesitates once again. Being vulnerable around her family is one thing (and she barely does that lately), but a stranger? That’s difficult.

In the end, though, she forces herself to be strong. “Yes, please. Up there.”

She doesn’t say Colin’s name. She hasn’t said his name out loud in several months, and she doesn’t know if she can, especially to a stranger. Fortunately, he seems to understand who she means, and rests the flower next to the correct name.

“Here?” he asks.

“There,” she says.

He gently pushes the flower’s stem into the hole, the petals on full display beside her brother’s name. Both of them step back. She’s satisfied with their work.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The boy offers her a smile. “I’m Neville. Are you…” The smile falters. “Are you Colin’s sister?”

She should have expected this question, but any openness she displayed before is now gone. Her defenses are on high alert and Jinxie is back to sitting in front of her for protection.

“Yes,” she says in a low voice. “Ella.”

Neville must sense her discomfort, as he quickly changes the subject. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be in and out, so I’ll probably see you a few times. Are you heading to breakfast?”

“Yeah,” she says, then looks around. “Though I’m not quite sure where breakfast is…”

Neville’s laugh isn’t mean. It’s rather good-natured, in fact, and he says, “I know that feeling. C’mon, I’ll show you the fastest way to the dining hall.”

He leads her through the halls, and she makes sure to memorize every corridor, every turn they take, every portrait they pass. Well, perhaps not every portrait. There are far too many of them to count, though they begin to dwindle as they approach the familiar double doors, now open wide in preparation for breakfast.

“Here you are,” Neville says.

The great hall is far bigger with only several people sitting in it, the early risers preparing for a new school year. Most of the professors have already arrived, likely to set an example, and Neville cheerfully waves to McGonagall when she spots them by the doors.

“Thanks,” Ella says.

“No problem,” says Neville, hoisting his box of flora up in his arms. “I better get these to the greenhouse, so I’ll see you later.”

Before she can ask whether he’ll be eating breakfast, too, he’s walking down the hall, towards the doors that lead outside. She watches him leave for a moment before entering the great hall. Barely anyone looks at her when she does, not like last night when the sorting was about to happen. Just how she likes it.

She takes a look at her class schedule while biting into some scones. Her first class is History of Magic, and she already knows what to expect when she sees Professor Binns listed as her teacher. It’s Herbology and Charms next with a break between the two, then Transfiguration. Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts are after lunch. Today is going to be exhausting.

Someone slides into the seat beside her and she bristles, but it’s only Dennis. He has his own class schedule with him and he’s brought Evangeline along, too. Ella nods her way when she smiles.

“What do you have first?” Dennis asks.

“History of Magic,” she says, making a face.

“Aw, don’t be like that, it’s a good class.” When she looks at him sceptically, he grins. “To fall asleep to, anyway.”

Evangeline sighs. “As a prefect, I feel as though I have the responsibility to argue against that.”

“But you can’t,” says Dennis.

“But I can’t.” Evangeline looks at Ella. “At least you don’t have O.W.L.s this year. I am _not_ looking forward to that.”

Dennis and Evangeline start a discussion about O.W.L.s that Ella tunes out of, none of it making any sense to her. She quietly eats her food and keeps her head down as more people start to file into the hall. She’s hoping to be small and inconspicuous enough to avoid anyone talking to her.

“Morning, Ella!”

So much for that.

Yeoreum is as chipper as she was last night, smile bright as she takes the seat next to Ella and immediately grabs a muffin. Ella considers ignoring her, but she’s only trying to blend in, not start a bad reputation for herself, so she says, “Morning.”

“I can’t believe we have History of Magic first thing. Do they _want_ us to be put off?”

Yeoreum launches into a recount of everything her father has apparently told her about Professor Binns, and while Ella can barely keep up, she’s somewhat grateful that she doesn’t have to contribute anything to the conversation other than a hum here or a nod there. At least Yeoreum is more engaging than Professor Binns appears to be.

The bell rings for their first class and Ella is immediately up, not wanting to linger in a social situation if she can help it. Yeoreum continues to speak to her even as they leave the hall behind. Either Yeoreum knows where to go or she’s acting as if she does, gait confident as they make their way through the halls.

“...And my younger brother was saying — oh, there’s the classroom! C’mon!”

Yeoreum doesn’t have to point, the two lines outside the fourth floor classroom clear. Ella follows at her own pace behind her, taking note of the other students in the line, and she recognises most from the sorting. Anyone she can’t see brings up the rear of the line not long after.

She doesn’t know what Professor Binns looks like, but when she sees an old ghost floating towards them, she can only assume it’s him. She’s proven right when he floats between the two lines, says, “Come on in, children,” and proceeds to phase through the doors without a care in the world. He leaves the students outside and it takes Marius Gold opening the doors himself for them to be granted access to the classroom.

The desks are arranged in threes and Ella and Yeoreum sit somewhere in the middle. Ella knows someone will have to sit on her other side eventually, but she isn’t expecting the heavy slam of the textbook on the desk and a disgruntled Damien Worth plopping himself down beside her with a dirty look cast at his own twin brother. Lucien, who had clearly been approaching Damien, steps back with a hurt expression and instead sits beside one of his fellow Slytherins.

“Wow,” Yeoreum mutters under her breath. Ella can share the sentiment.

“Get your quills ready,” Binns says, and yes, Ella can already feel her eyelids fluttering. “We’ll be learning about the founding of Britain’s Ministry of Magic.”

And so class begins. At least two students are out cold and snoring by the end of the lecture, and Ella is tempted to follow suit despite the ten hour sleep she had last night. She knows more about Ulick Gamp than she could ever want. At least Binns doesn’t give them any homework.

Herbology is more interesting, but the bar is low, and they don’t do anything with the actual plants. Instead, they practice spells that will keep them safe from plants. Ella can only imagine what a Venomous Tentacula and Devil’s Snare are. Why had she ever thought the Wizarding World was safe?

Halfway through the class, Neville walks in with another box of Herbology supplies, delivering them safe and sound to Professor Sprout. When he catches sight of Ella, he waves. She returns it with a small wave of her own as several heads turn to look at her.

“You know Neville Longbottom?” Damien says, watching in awe as Neville leave the greenhouse.

“Not really,” Ella says. “I just bumped into him this morning.”

“Still,” says Damien, “that’s the guy who killed You-Know-Who’s snake, his closest companion.”

Yeoreum leans in conspiratorially. “I heard that he was able to summon the Sword of Gryffindor. Only _true_ Gryffindors are able to do that.”

“Miss Kim, is there something you would like to say about the severing charm?”

“No, Professor.”

After their break, during which Ella sat and listened to Yeoreum and Damien argue over which national Quidditch team is superior with Marius joining in immediately after finding them, is Charms. Feathers are lined up across the desks and Ella picks hers up, twirling it around as she scrutinizes it.

It turns out they’re learning the levitation charm and the feathers are what they’re practicing on. Flitwick is patient with them, speaking to them both as a class and one-on-one once they start practicing. The charm itself sounds easy to master, but it takes quite a few tries for her to actually achieve it, and she feels a sense of achievement once she does.

“Well done, Miss Creevey!” Flitwick says after she’s one of the first to hold her feather in the air, and for an extended amount of time at that.

It’s only as she’s leaving the Charms classroom that she reminds herself to settle down, to not get too excited. To let herself drown in magic would be a death sentence. That is the conclusion she came to four months ago and she will stick to it.

She doesn’t know what to expect with Transfiguration. From what she’s been told, McGonagall was the professor for years, but Dennis mentioned during the summer that Dumbledore hadn’t taught classes when he was headmaster and that McGonagall was likely to do the same. That left the Transfiguration professor spot ripe for the taking.

The woman standing at the front of the classroom is definitely not McGonagall. Instead, a young woman with curly blonde hair stands with her back to the chalkboard, which already has several lines of symbols written on it. She patiently waits for them all to take their seats before speaking.

“Good afternoon, class,” she says. “I’m Professor Clearwater, the new Transfiguration teacher. Just as you’re new, I’m new, so let’s be kind to each other, shall we?”

Despite being new, Clearwater knows what she’s talking about, teaching them the Transfiguration Alphabet with no pauses or reservations. By the end of the lesson, the symbols are starting to blend together, but Ella thinks she has the first eight memorized. Baby steps.

By lunchtime, she’s starving.

It’s on their way to the great hall that she sees something that concerns her, yet doesn’t surprise her. Three Gryffindors have two Slytherins caged in at the side of the hallway, sparks she can’t identify leaving their wands, the Slytherins pressed against the wall with their wands nowhere to be found. Their voices grow louder as she and Yeoreum walk closer.

“Who let Death Eater scum back into Hogwarts?” says one of the Gryffindors, twirling their wand between spells.

The Slytherins don’t get a chance to respond, one of the other Gryffindors using a spell on them that renders them speechless. Literally. They open their mouths, but nothing comes out. The Gryffindors laugh.

“How horrible,” Yeoreum says as a Gryffindor prefect rushes in to stop the attack. “How can those two be Death Eaters, they only look a few years older than we are.”

Ella can’t say she knows much about Death Eaters, nor does she care to, but the two Slytherin students (who can now talk again), seem to be more akin to victims than perpetrators. Kids are cruel.

Lunch is spent eating well-prepared sandwiches and listening to Yeoreum discuss a place called Zonko’s with Torian and Marius. She doesn’t know what a Nose-Biting Teacup is, but if it lives up to its name, she doesn’t want to know. When asked her opinion, she only shrugs.

After they’ve been fed, it’s time for Potions. Ella quickly decides she doesn’t like Potions.

It isn’t the subject itself that she doesn’t like. She finds it similar to muggle chemistry, just with magical ingredients and a few waves of her wand. No, it’s the professor that bothers her.

Professor Slughorn is competent at what he does, but his treatment of students leaves more to be desired. Ella isn’t affected, treated as a regular student, just as she should be. Just as they all should be. But she sees the look Slughorn gives Aurelia Carrow as he passes by her desk and how he will only speak to Willow Astarac and not her Potions partner, Ilaria Rosier. Every time Theresa Burke raises her hand to answer a question, which is often, she is ignored, even if she’s the only one willing to answer.

The boy sitting next to Theresa, however, doesn’t get that treatment. Instead, he brightens when he sees him and says, “Mr Selwyn! Your sister told me to expect you. How is your mother doing?”

Vesper Selwyn sits straighter. “She’s good, sir. She’s focusing on volunteer work at the moment.”

“Is that so? You were helping her over the summer, I expect.”

“Of course. Tess and I were helping fix up some war-torn places over the holidays with my little sisters.”

Slughorn looks at him, confused. “Tess?”

“Yeah? Theresa.” Vesper gestures to Theresa, who sits emotionless. “She’s my cousin.”

Slughorn treats Theresa better after that.

Vesper isn’t the only one to be given special treatment, either. Marius is minding his own business, standing over his cauldron with Damien when Slughorn approaches. He doesn’t even notice him until he speaks up.

“Mr Gold, my boy, how is your father doing?” he says, and Marius looks up, bewildered. “I remember teaching him when he was a boy. Charming young man. Still commentating Quidditch matches all over the world?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s in Bulgaria right now,” Marius says, bemusement in his voice. Ella has to stop herself from snorting.

They survive Potions without blowing anything up and are soon on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. The subject name alone is enough to make Ella antsy, knowing that dark magic is ultimately what killed her brother, and while she doesn’t know what spell caused his death, she fears she may find out. There are some things in this world she wishes to remain ignorant about.

Her fears take a backseat when she steps into the classroom and sees Harry Potter behind the teacher’s desk.

McGonagall is there too, so Ella assumes their DADA professor isn’t Harry Potter. Probably. But he _is_ here, and that’s enough to get the class riled up. Yeoreum grips her arm as they sit down.

“That’s Harry Potter,” she shout-whispers, as though Ella doesn’t know that already.

“It’s rude to stare,” Torian says from the seat in front of him, though Damien, his seatmate, hasn’t gotten the message. He’s staring with his mouth wide open.

McGonagall clears her throat and the class settles down, though there are a few stray whispers here and there. She waits for them to stop completely, with a few harsh glares in their direction, before speaking.

“Before you all get excited, please remember that Mr Potter is not something shiny to gawk at,” she says. “Are we clear on that?”

A chorus of ‘ _Yes, Professor_ ’ echoes throughout the room.

“Good. Now, the permanent position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor has yet to be filled, and so I will be handling the subject until a suitable candidate can be found,” she says. “As I also have headmistress duties to attend to, I have asked Mr Potter to assist me with the classes of the lower years. This is going towards his N.E.W.T.s, so be sure to behave yourself.”

With one last nod at Potter, she strides down the centre of the room and out the door, leaving them with the Boy Who Lived.

Potter hesitates when all eyes turn back to him, and Ella can’t say she blames him. It’s also oddly comforting. After hearing recounts of Harry Potter’s gallant adventures, both from her brothers and various other sources around the Wizarding World, it’s nice to see he’s a normal human. Aside from being a war hero who defeated the most evil wizard in Britain. He defeated the most evil wizard in Britain _and_ he gets unnerved when a bunch of first years are looking at him.

He recovers soon enough. “Alright, so the class structure for the semester will go like this: we’ll cover something in the textbook, whether it be a magical creature that could be considered a threat or a spell that could hurt you, and the lesson after, we’ll work on the spells used to combat said threat. Trust me, I know how it feels to just do theory work for weeks on end.”

They learn about imps first, and Ella finds Harry to be a fairly good teacher, not that she knows much about teaching. At this point, she’s just glad he isn’t giving a dull lecture or picking favourites from the students.

One thing is for sure, though: Dennis is going to go bonkers when he finds out.

And go bonkers he does. Once classes are done and Potter dismisses them, Ella heads back to Gryffindor Tower, only to be pulled aside the moment she’s stepped through the portal hole. Dennis has an excited expression on his face reserved only for when speaking about exciting Wizarding World things. At the top of that list is Harry Potter.

“Is it true that Harry Potter is teaching your class?”

“Hello to you, too, Dennis, how was your day?”

Dennis huffs. “My day was good, now answer the question.”

Ella rolls her eyes. “Yes, he is. Something about helping us contributing to his N.E.W.T. levels.”

“Lucky,” he says, a slight whine to his voice, and Ella pushes his shoulder.

“Just go up and say hi to him if you want to see him that badly.”

“I would, but…” Dennis trails off, finally dropping his hand from Ella’s arm where it’s been since he grabbed her. “I don’t know, I don’t want to bother him. He’s probably going through a lot right now. Aftermath of the war and all that.”

“We all are,” Ella points out. “I don’t think greeting him in the halls is going to be a problem.”

Dennis sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I guess… Oh!”

“What is it?”

“I almost forgot.” He rummages through his bookbag, producing a few rolls of parchment. “Here. For your letter writing needs.”

She takes the parchment. “Right. I forgot that writing letters is a thing. I suppose I better do that…”

Though really, writing back home is one of the last things she wants to do right now.

Dennis gives her an apologetic look, likely knowing what she’s thinking. He probably feels the same. Home hasn’t been the best place for either of them in the past few months. Still, they’re her parents, and they deserve to know at least the bare minimum of what she’s been up to.

“I’ll go get it over with, then,” she says, waving briefly at Dennis with her free hand before climbing the stairs to the dormitories.

The dorms are empty at this time of day, most of the students still lounging in the common room below, and so she has the place to herself. It’s how she prefers it.

Quill in hand, she begins to write.

_Dear mum and dad,_

_How are you? I’ve been doing well and so has Jinxie. I’ve been sorted into Gryffindor and just completed my first day of classes._

She pauses, ink blotting where the tip of her quill meets the parchment as she thinks of something more to say. Perhaps if this was a year ago, she would have described her classes, the food, the general atmosphere of Hogwarts. That isn’t an option now.

That leaves her with nothing else to say, however, and so she writes the only thing she can think of.

_Love, Ella (and Jinxie)_

She drops her quill back into the inkpot, leaning back and spreading herself across her chair. She closes her eyes. Why can’t this year be over already?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!


	3. ella creevey and the lost stone ; iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first years go flying, ella quarrels with her housemate, then overhears a conversation she definitely shouldn't be listening to.

It takes two whole weeks for her parents to write back to her.

In those two weeks, she has tagged along with Yeoreum and whoever else Yeoreum wants to speak to that day, rarely engaging in both conversation and her lessons. She writes her notes, half-heartedly listens to lectures, and uses her homework as an excuse to not spend time with people in the common room after class. If her housemates think she’s boring, so be it.

They haven’t ditched her yet, however, though that could merely be because they like Yeoreum, and Yeoreum usually sticks by her. She forces herself to not care about that. Caring isn’t what she’s here to do.

The mail arrives not long after she arrives at breakfast, letters and newspapers dropping everywhere, and she has to catch her letter before it lands in her cereal. She doesn’t waste any time, already annoyed at having to wait two whole weeks. Her parents may be muggles, but they’ve had plenty of years to learn how to use the owl post.

Inside the envelope are two slips of paper, and she assumes the letter is just that long until she opens them. They’re two separate letters, one from her father, one from her mother. Somehow, she isn’t surprised.

She reads her father’s first.

_ Dear Ella, _

_ Congratulations on getting into Gryffindor. It makes me relieved that you’re in the same house as Dennis. Not that you can’t survive on your own, of course. You would flourish no matter your house. I’m just glad you two are together. _

_ I’d love to hear more about your classes and the friends you’ve made. Also, make sure you’re eating enough for each meal and going to bed at a reasonable time. I may be a ‘muggle’, but if I hear that you aren’t looking after yourself, I’m finding a way to Hogwarts myself. _

_ One last thing, and you’re going to hate me for saying this, but: your brother would be so proud of you. _

Ella sucks in a breath. She should have expected that. Her father was the first to broach the subject of her brother a month after his death. It hadn’t been well received at the time, but she’s long since realized that it’s his way of coping, and she doesn’t want to get in the way of that.

_ We love you, forever and always. _

_ Love, Dad. _

The corner of her mouth upturns ever so slightly, but it falls back into place the moment she opens her mother’s letter. It’s even shorter than her father’s.

_ Dearest Ella, _

_ I’m glad you’re doing well. Remember that I love you and that if you need me, I’m here. If you want to come home at any time, let someone know, let me know, and I’ll get you back here ASAP. _

_ Send my love to Jinxie. _

_ Love, Mum. _

The contents of the letter doesn’t surprise her. Her mother had been very vocal about the prospect of her attending Hogwarts, especially when it became clear that she was hesitant about it herself. It had been her father and Dennis who pointed out that whether she liked it or not, she was a witch, and it’s in her best interest to get an education accordingly. Her mother had relented, at least to them. She is still trying to convince her to come home.

With a quiet sigh, she stuffs the letters back into their envelope and tries to focus on what the other Gryffindors are talking about.

“We finally,  _ finally  _ get to fly!” Marius says, and Ella thinks this is the happiest she’s seen him in the past two weeks. “I know it’s just beginner’s lessons, but still, we get to  _ fly _ .”

Yeoreum sighs, leaning against the table. “It’s only been two weeks and I miss flying. My sister and I play seekers matches all the time back home. I miss it already…”

“We’ll probably have limitations since we’re at school,” Torian says, ever the voice of reason. “I doubt you’ll be able to play any Quidditch during the one flying lesson we get.”

Yeoreum and Marius groan in unison.

Ella wishes she has time to drop her letters off in her dorm room, but the bell signalling their first class, which just so happens to be the long-awaited flying class. Yeoreum and Marius are running ahead, chattering away in loud voices. A few older students glare at them on the way.

Madam Hooch waits for them, standing between two lines of brooms. They don’t look particularly fancy, some with different coloured handles, all with frayed bristles that indicate they’re old and worn. They lie dormant and Ella can’t see what’s so magical about them.

“Good morning, class!” Hooch says. Her voice is louder than Ella thought it would be. “Let’s get right to it, shall we? Pick a broom, any broom, and stand to the left of it.”

Several students run ahead in order to get the best brooms, including Yeoreum and Damien, along with Vesper and a small Slytherin girl Ella doesn’t remember the name of as well as a rowdy Hufflepuff boy. They all look the same, so what’s the point?

She manages to squeeze into the spot between Yeoreum and Theresa just in time for Madam Hooch to say, “Alright, now raise your right hand over the broom and say, ‘Up!’”

Thus starts the chorus of children, all screaming  _ ‘up’  _ at a long piece of wood. A few students get it on their first couple of tries, Yeoreum and Marius included, though for some, it takes a while. Ella is in the latter category.

She’s about ready to give up when the broom flies into her hand, and she stumbles backwards slightly from the unexpected force. Somehow she doubts that flying will become a regular pastime for her.

“Has everyone got their brooms in their hand? Good, good.” Madam Hooch paces between the two lines of students, studying all of them. “Now, I want you all to mount your brooms. When I blow the whistle, lean forward, will yourself to rise up into the air ever so slightly, and hover for a little bit before settling back down on the grass.”

Hooch blows the whistle and the students begin to hover. It takes Ella a good thirty seconds before she’s able to lift herself off the ground, and she certainly isn’t as stable as Yeoreum or Marius, who by their own admission have been on brooms since they could walk. She isn’t in the air very long, but she’s relieved to be back on the ground regardless.

“I can go way higher than this,” Vesper says to the small Slytherin girl. Both of them are still hovering.

“Then why aren’t you?” the girl asks.

Vesper’s eyes narrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Next to Ella, Theresa sighs and mutters, “Here we go.”

“And if it is?” says the girl.

Vesper grins like the cat who caught the canary. “Race to Gryffindor tower, circle it, then come back here. Whoever has their feet touch the ground here first wins.”

The girl mirrors the grin. “You’re on.”

“Ready, set…” Vesper kicks off. “Go!”

“Cheater!” The girl follows.

They soar into the air, making a beeline for Gryffindor tower, the furthest turret from the grassy field. Madam Hooch is quick to spot them, but is too short to stop them, and by the time she’s brandished her wand, they’re too far away. If her aim is off it could be a disaster.

“Vesper Selwyn and Hikari Hirano, get back here right now!” she yells, but they wouldn’t be able to hear her, not with the wind pressing against them.

“Morons,” Theresa grumbles.

The other students begin cheering, standing on their tip-toes in an attempt to see better. It doesn’t do much, Vesper and Hikari nothing more than two specks in the distance by now, but that does nothing to quell the energy. Even Ella feels the hum of excitement in the air.

Vesper is the first to circle Gryffindor Tower, but that doesn’t bother Hikari, who speeds up towards the end of their race. She passes him so quickly and so closely that he almost falls off his broom leaning away from her. Ella thinks Madam Hooch might be close to a heart attack, her hand over her heart as she watches them.

The gap created by Hikari becomes too big, and she’s ultimately the one to touch the ground first, a bright grin on her face as Vesper lowers himself beside her a few seconds later. He’s frowning and Ella assumes the worst.

“I win!” Hikari says.

Vesper pouts, but sighs and says, “Yeah, yeah, you win, but I’ll win next time!”

Hikari laughs. “Looking forward to it!”

“Vesper Selwyn and Hikari Hirano!”

The crowd of students parts to avoid Madam Hooch, who walks briskly towards the two competitors. The smile slides off Hikari’s face and Vesper’s pout disappears, but his eyes widen. They must have forgotten about her.

“Fifty points from Slytherin, both of you!” Hooch says. “This is a flying lesson, not an international Quidditch pitch.”

As Hooch walks away, Vesper and Hikari smile slyly at each other and whisper, “Worth it.”

The moment is ruined, however, by a Ravenclaw student by the name of Sebastian Veront. “Seriously, Selwyn? I can’t believe you lost to a mudblood.”

Vesper’s smile drops, first from shock, then to make way for the frown and clenched teeth that replaces it. He starts towards him, but Hikari once again beats him to it. Broom raised, she smacks Sebastian in the face with it hard enough to make him stagger backwards, his cheek red from the coarse bristles.

If Madam Hooch notices, she doesn’t say anything.

* * *

Ella thinks she’s settled into a comfortable existence at Hogwarts by October. She blends into the background rather nicely, she thinks, rarely speaking, but doing her best to not be rude. Hanging around Yeoreum means she doesn’t have to speak much, though she isn’t ready to say they’re friends. It’s the same with the rest of the Gryffindors. They’re nice people, but she doesn’t want to get attached.

As for everyone else, she’s content with ignoring them, whether they be students from other houses, professors she passes in the corridors, or the previous students popping in to complete their N.E.W.T.s. She doesn’t keep her head down, but her gaze remains forward. She focuses on what’s ahead of her and nothing else.

Dennis never received the memo.

She’s heading to the library, taking a stack of books back in order to avoid a group game of exploding snap, when she spots Dennis. He’s talking to Harry and two others. She learned within her first week that these two are Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, the other two thirds of the ‘Golden Trio’ that helped defeat Voldemort. As nice as she’s sure they are, she doesn’t particularly want to speak to them.

“Ella! Hey, come here!”

It seems fate (Dennis) has other plans.

Holding the books close so she doesn’t drop them, she changes her destination to Dennis' side. He takes several books from her without asking, and while she protests, her arms do not, so she ultimately allows it. She still scowls at him, though.

“This is my little sister, Ella,” Dennis says excitedly. “Though I’m sure you already know that, Harry.”

Harry nods, a small smile on his face. “I do.”

“Hi, Professor Potter,” Ella says, resisting the urge to smirk when Harry sighs.

“I’m not a professor.”

“You kind of are, mate,” Ron says. “I’m pretty sure McGonagall is counting on that.”

“And don’t lie to us and say you aren’t enjoying it, Harry,” says Hermione.

Harry presses his lips together and doesn’t answer, but there is a sparkle in his eyes. Ella takes it to mean that his best friends are right.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ella,” Hermione says. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Ron Weasley.”

“I know,” Ella says, and when they look at her in confusion, she has to hold back a laugh. “You’re kind of celebrities. The first years talk about you all the time, especially the Gryffindor ones. Though I guess I’m not exactly privy to what the other first years talk about in their common rooms.”

Dennis grins. “They’re all very proud to be in the same house as you.”

Ella doesn’t know if that’s entirely true. She doesn’t  _ hate  _ being in the same house as them, not at all, but she doesn’t think it matters either way. Her house does not define her. None of their houses define them.

“What do you  _ want _ , Lucien?!”

The shout echoes throughout the corridor, and all five of them turn to its source, though Ella already knows what she’ll see. Damien stands in the middle of the hall with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Lucien is standing a metre or so away from him, folded in on himself ever so slightly, arms folded as if to protect himself. He says something low enough that only Damien can hear, but it isn’t well received.

“You made it clear how you feel when you became… one of  _ them _ .” Damien gestures to the Slytherin tie around Lucien’s neck.

Ella frowns. She’d had an inkling of how Damien felt, especially as he wasn’t all that good at hiding it, but she never thought he’d yell at his twin brother in public like this. And over something as inconsequential as a school house, too.

“What’s all that about?” asks Ron.

Rather than answering, Ella swipes her books back from Dennis and marches over to Damien. Lucien sees her first, but doesn’t say anything, looking apprehensive at her sudden appearance. Perhaps he thinks she’s here to back Damien up.

That isn’t happening.

“What are you doing?” she asks Damien.

He finally sees her, confusion on his features as he faces her. “What do you mean? I don’t want to deal with Slytherins any more than I already have to.”

“It’s just a house,” Ella says. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Damien looks at her like she’s crazy. “ _ Just _ a house? Don’t you know what they say? There hasn’t been a bad wizard who wasn’t in Slytherin.”

“But he’s your brother, and he doesn’t look like a dark wizard to me.”

“He isn’t now, but the sorting hat saw something in him, didn’t it? If he didn’t have the potential to be a Slytherin, then it wouldn’t have put him there, and who knows what they do down in the dungeons.”

The more they argue, the smaller Lucien becomes, but he doesn’t defend himself. This isn’t a surprise. From what Ella’s seen, he’s the more reserved twin. They’re identical in appearance, but their personalities are opposite, just as their houses are. That still isn’t a reason for one brother to turn the other away.

“It’s fine, um… sorry…” Lucien takes a step back, then another, then a few until he’s ready to turn around and power-walk down the hall. Ella can’t say she blames him for leaving so fast.

“Your school house doesn’t determine your entire life, you know,” Ella says, turning in the opposite direction Lucien left in. She has a library to get to.

As she’s walking away, she hears Damien mutter, “The first time she’s spoken more than two words to me and she’s yelling at me.”

She ignores him and picks up the pace towards the library, slowing down only when she reaches the doors. She doubts Madam Pince will approve of her running with her precious books in her arms. Dropping them off is easy enough, though she has to dodge several groups of fifth years who have already set up camp in the library. The perks of being a tiny first year.

Her journey back to Gryffindor Tower is uninterrupted, and when she steps through the portrait hole, she’s greeted by the sight of her classmates still playing exploding snap. Damien has joined them now, laughing as Marius narrowly dodges a few sparks. She doesn’t join them.

As she climbs the stairs to the dormitory, she hears Damien say, “And there goes the Ice Queen, acting as though she’s above us all.”

So that’s how it’s going to be? So be it. She’ll just ignore him. She has Potions homework to finish, anyway.

Her room is silent save for the soft wind blowing through her open window and the scratch of her quill against the parchment. It’s easy to concentrate when the noises of the common room are low murmurs occasionally filtering through the floorboards. She may not be social, but at least she’s productive.

She’s concluding her essay when the door opens, but she doesn’t look up until she’s written the last sentence. Yeoreum stands awkwardly by the door, hands pressed against it, and her shirt has a hole from where an exploding snap card must have nicked her. Ella doesn’t say anything. Yeoreum will gather the courage to say what she wants to say. She’s a Gryffindor, after all.

“Are you okay?” she eventually asks, and really, Ella should have expected the question, but it still takes her by surprise.

“Yeah, why?” she says.

Yeoreum shrugs, moving towards her bed. “Because of what Damien said.”

“It’s fine. If he wants to be mad just because I called him out, that’s his problem.”

“What happened exactly, anyway?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Nope. He just said you were mad at him.”

Ella scrunches her nose. “I wouldn’t say I was  _ mad _ . I just saw him being a prat and told him he was being one.”

Yeoreum chuckles. “What was he doing?”

“He was being mean to his brother just because he talked to him. Apparently he doesn’t want to talk to Slytherins, related to him or not.”

Yeoreum makes a face. “That’s stupid.”

“I know, I told him that. The whole hating Slytherins thing is dumb,” Ella says, closing her Potions textbook.

“My dad joked about being wary of Slytherins, but I don’t think he means it,” says Yeoreum. “Some of his best coworkers were Slytherins. Besides, I think my sister will probably be in Slytherin.  _ Maybe  _ my brother, but definitely my sister, even though she’s only seven.”

“That’s old enough for a kid to show their personality,” Ella says. “And I know if I’d been in Slytherin, Dennis still would’ve loved me the same.”

Yeoreum falls back on her bed, arms spread out and facing the ceiling. “Seriously, I don’t know what Damien’s problem is.”

“I do. He’s a prat.”

Yeoreum laughs and Ella follows suit, glad she’s made her friend laugh, until she realises what she’s doing and schools her features. She reminds herself that they’re not friends. She can’t get attached.

_ Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached _ .

* * *

Not getting attached is easier said than done.

Damien’s ‘Ice Queen’ comment isn’t taken seriously by the other Gryffindors, Torian and Marius greeting Ella as they would every other day when she and Yeoreum arrive for breakfast the following morning. If anything, they’re nicer to her than usual, asking for her opinions on things and including her in the conversation without Yeoreum’s assistance.

“I think they realised that you’re kind of closed off sometimes,” Yeoreum says when she asks on their way to History of Magic. “They want to get to know you better.”

The next couple of weeks are spent in a vicious cycle. She finds herself getting comfortable, letting her guard down and being herself, contributing more when with her peers. Then she’ll spare a single glance at the memorial wall and the bricks her own walls are made up of lay themselves again. She can have fun, perhaps, but she can’t get too comfortable.

By the time Halloween rolls around, she’s exhausted. A constant routine of throwing herself into her homework to distract herself, only to be pulled into some group activity, then escaping said group activity when she starts to relax has taken its toll on her. She only wants to sleep.

“But  _ Ella _ ,” Yeoreum whines, dragging out the last syllable of her name. “It’s Halloween! And our first Halloween feast! It won’t be the same without you.”

Something warm blossoms in Ella’s chest, but she ignores it. “Our  _ first  _ Halloween feast, which means there’ll be more. I’m really,  _ really  _ tired, Yeoreum.”

It’s not a lie, and Yeoreum must see that when she gives Ella a once-over. “Alright… I’ll bring up some food for you, though! And if you wake up, come join us.”

“I will.”

Yeoreum leaves her after that, and she falls atop her bed, eyes closing. A boarding school bed isn’t supposed to be as comfortable as hers is. It’s probably magic, she thinks as she drifts off to sleep.

She doesn’t dream. Or at least, she doesn’t remember dreaming when she’s woken up by a soft meow by her right ear. There is only darkness until she opens her eyes, though that isn’t much better. The sun has set and the moon is half full in the night sky.

_ Meow _ .

Groaning, she rubs her eyes and looks at Jinxie. “What is it?”

With another meow, Jinxie climbs atop her pillow and taps the wall holding Ella’s personal shelf, the one she uses in lieu of a bedside table. It’s also the shelf that holds Jinxie’s special treats.

Clicking her tongue, Ella reaches for the small pouch Jinxie’s aiming for and tips it slightly, shaking it so a few small cubes land in her hand. She feeds them to Jinxie one by one. Her palm is sticky once they’re all gone and she gets to her feet, heading to the bathroom to wash her hands.

Jinxie follows her with another meow and she rolls her eyes. “I suppose you want some real food, too? I have to go down to the kitchen and get some more, come on.”

The dormitory hallways are deserted, so the Halloween feast must still be in full swing. A quick glance at a nearby grandfather clock indicates it won’t be over for another hour at least. That’s plenty of time for her to sneak down to the kitchens, grab some food, then come back.

Her footsteps are silent on the stairs as she moves to the common room, Jinxie’s even quieter. She’s about to turn around and say something to her furry companion when she hears a voice that most certainly doesn’t belong to either of them.

“So you just dropped it there?”

“I didn’t really need it anymore, and I figured it would just, I don’t know, get lost there forever or something.”

The second voice is definitely Harry Potter. Ella has heard it in her Defence Against the Dark Arts classes enough by now to know it. The first is one she’s sure she’s heard before, but she can’t quite place where, at least not until the third person speaks up.

“It’ll be fine, Hermione. It’s probably the best place for it, isn’t it? No sane person goes in there.”

“ _ We _ went in there, Ron.”

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, then.

“Well… yeah, but that wasn’t really a  _ choice _ , was it?”

“It sort of was.”

“You think I’d  _ choose  _ to follow the spiders, Harry?”

“It doesn’t matter! My point is that some kids could go in there for whatever reason, same as us, and find it. The Resurrection Stone isn’t something to leave lying around, not when so many people here could be vulnerable to it.”

Resurrection Stone? Does that mean what Ella thinks it means?

“They’d need to know what it is and how to use it first.” There is a pause before Harry speaks again. “Can we talk about this another day? As in, any day but today?”

Ella frowns, confused, but it must make sense to the other two thirds of the Golden Trio as Ron says in a softer voice than before, “Yeah, of course.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” says Hermione. “Let’s go for a walk while everyone’s busy, shall we?”

Ella flattens herself against the staircase as feet move in the direction of the portrait hole. They’re likely facing away from her, but she isn’t about to take any risks, especially not after the conversation she just heard. She holds her breath until their footsteps fade away completely.

“Well,” she says to Jinxie, removing straightening herself, “I guess we should go get you that food quickly.”

Jinxie makes a sound of affirmation, but Ella barely hears it, the words ‘ _ Resurrection Stone _ ’ echoing in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's almost 4am as i'm writing this. who am i. why am i here. i'm hungry.


End file.
